


Singing in the Dark

by the_anon_G



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_anon_G/pseuds/the_anon_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen can sing, and beautifully at that. When she finally decides to let the world hear her voice via auditioning for the role of Christine in the Phantom of the Opera, she meets an interesting character that might just help her make the most out of the experience… or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically combining two of my favorite things: Everlark and Phantom of the Opera. The Hunger Games and Everlark belongs to Suzanne Collins; the songs (lyrics) are credited to Andrew Lloyd Weber and his team.

> _“Promise me that sometimes_
> 
> _You will think of me.”_

Katniss took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Willing herself to shut out the noise echoing in the cold, dimly-lit hallway, she focused on the darkness behind her closed eyes.

 

_Count backwards from ten. Nine. Eight…_

Her hands, cold and clammy, crumpled the fading sheet of paper that she was holding. The notes and the words that were printed on it may have as well melted off at that point.

Somewhere to her right, a girl was laughing, the sound melodious. She was most probably a soprano, here to audition for the same role as she was.

 

_Shut up Katniss. Six._

Katniss swallowed dryly, the sound loud and magnified to her own ears as she let herself settle into the quiet of her own mind.

 

_Just focus, Katniss. Breathe in. Out. You can do this._

She opened her eyes, the beating in her chest now resembling a more normal rate. The hollowness in her gut maintained itself, and she knew it was something that she can’t do anything more at this point. Being nervous was as important as being confident, especially in times when her focus and not arrogance was needed. And this, most definitely, is one of those times.

 

The Phantom of the Opera is her favorite musical, and the role of Christine Daae is something that she never thought she would ever have the chance to play.

 

Granted, it was only a university production, far from Broadway or the West End. But she grew up listening to the musical’s soundtrack through mother’s cassette tape, no less, and her most treasured childhood memories consisted of duets with her father whose full baritone rivaled that of the Phantom on the recording. Her mother had always said it was Ralph Everdeen’s voice that made her a goner, their love story born from a university production of Les Miserables, not unlike the one Katniss was auditioning for now.

 

Well, lined up to audition, at least. Four girls had already gone in, and there were five of them still in waiting. Katniss was the last one to go, barely making it on time for sign up after her friend Madge relieved her from coffee shop duty five minutes late. She didn’t bother telling the other girl about this audition. She didn’t want to add one of her very few friends to the list of people she’ll be disappointing should this dream of her crash and burn.

 

She sighed, grimacing. Her countdown wasn’t working. The nerves were coming at her in waves at this point, and she’d have to count backwards from a thousand if she were to use it for calming herself down. Shaking her head, she let herself glance around at the competition. Three seats away from her right was a petite brunette flanked by two of her friends, chatting away and giggling at something on her Ipad. Katniss envied her nonchalance. The girl, noticing Katniss, smirked and whispered something to her friends, and they burst into laughter.

 

“Amateur hour,” one of the blondes mock whispered.

 

Katniss rolled her eyes. Was she in fucking Mean Girls the musical? Ignoring the clichéd trio, she continued looking around. There were three other candidates, as far as she can tell by the music sheets on their laps. Closest to the door and the next to go in was a fair, meek looking girl focused on a folder spread on her lap. Her lips were moving quietly, and Katniss realized that she was probably memorizing the lines to her audition piece. The girl looked up, striking green eyes catching Katniss’s grey, and smiled just as the door opened.

 

“Next please,” a woman announced, her voice in an unnatural falsetto. “Ms. Annie Cresta?”

 

“That’s me,” the green-eyed girl said, standing up. Her voice was soft, musical even from Katniss’s distance. Before going in, Annie looked at her again with a nervous smile.

 

“Good luck,” Katniss mouthed, surprised at the interaction. She was never really one for socializing. It was probably her nerves talking. Straightening the now barely salvageable sheet music on her lap, Katniss decided to follow Annie’s example and read through. She’s memorized the lyrics to ‘Think of Me’ since she was five, but she wasn’t going to risk forgetting the lyrics at this point.

 

“Oh my god, please tell me he’s going to be the phantom.”

 

“Fuck Clove, you need to get that ass.”

 

There was a collective giggling to her right once more, and it took her a huge amount of self-restraint not to snap. She was pretty sure they were intentionally being as cheesy a cliché as they can at this point. Why was this girl – Clove – even allowed to have an entourage at the audition? There was a sign at the corner of the hallway that said ‘for actors only’. Shaking her head, her vision caught on a head of blonde, her attention piqued at how the curls gleamed even under the poor lighting. She didn’t even realize she was staring until the person turned, and instead of the blonde hair Katniss found herself staring at a pair of very blue eyes.

 

She blinked, feeling her face flame in mortification at being caught. Quickly averting her eyes, she stared at the blank wall in front of her, suddenly interested in the peeling paint. She was hyperaware at how the other girls continued to fawn over the guy, one of Clove’s friends even daring to say hello.

 

“Are you guys all auditioning?” a deep voice asked. For some reason, Katniss had the thought that the rich voice was a perfect match for his eyes.

 

“I am,” Clove’s high pitched voice answered proudly. “My girls, Cashmere and Aria are just here for moral support.”

 

“We’re super into musicals,” one of the girls simpered. Katniss turned to them just in time to catch the girl wink at the guy. Katniss couldn’t help her grimace. Second hand embarrassment always made her cringe.

 

The guy, who was now just a few feet away from Katniss, made an awkward chuckle. “Ah, well, I have to inform you that only those auditioning are allowed here. So…”

 

Clove made a shocked sound. She probably could have fanned herself and fainted, Katniss was pretty sure Clove was going for that effect. “We’re so sorry, I didn’t realize that. Cas, Aria, you can just wait for me in the car…”

 

Katniss could have turned, if only to thank the guy for getting rid of the two. But by the time she had looked, it was just Clove and herself left. Has she been waiting that long already? Where had the other girls gone? Before she could even think about time flying, the door had opened again, the woman peeking out to call the next girl. Clove cleared her throat, flipping her hair back and walking towards the woman with chin up.

 

She was alone, finally.

 

_Right. Maybe counting backwards from ten will work now._

She folded her sheet music carefully, tucking it into the pocket of the backpack that rested under her chair. Who was she kidding? She was more likely to forget her own name that the words to her song. Her father had made sure of that, before and even after his death. She closed her eyes, flattening her palms on her thighs.

 

_Ten. Nine. Eight._

Katniss heard a door open to her right. Was Clove done already? It hasn’t been a minute to her audition yet. Unless the panel was super strict or they’ve already found their Christine. It’s always the drawback of being last in an audition. The panel usually becomes impatient, their standards already set by the first few auditionees to go in. Her breath hitched, her hands forming clammy fists.

 

_Fuck. Seven._

_I’ll beg them to give me a chance. Six._

_Fi –_

“You’re the last one then?”

 

She looked up, surprised to see the blue eyes once more. “Well, I’m the only one left, am I not?”

 

He grinned, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, that was a stupid question.”

 

He scratched his head, and Katniss was distracted with the way the muscles of his arm contracted, the veins on his forearm bulging. The light bounced on even the fine hair dusting the skin, and Katniss couldn’t help but frown at how angelic it looked. It made her regret how rude her reply must have sounded, even more when their gazes met again.

 

Silence filled the space between them, Katniss barely remembering to continue her countdown _again._ She took a deep breath, intent to ignore this person and focus on her preferred calming method. She was going to finish her count to one, goddamit.

 

“Ms. Everdeen? Katniss Everdeen?”

 

_For fuck’s sake –_

She blew her cheeks out, her hand running down her braid as she stood up. The woman looked at her brightly, energetic despite the number of girls they had to screen through, and the thought calmed Katniss a little. Maybe they haven’t found their Christine yet. She still had a chance. She had completely forgotten the presence of another person just an arm’s length away from her until he cleared his throat.

 

“Break a leg, Katniss,” he said softly, smiling.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her anxiety preventing her from smiling back.

 

The woman stepped out of the room, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. “Why are you still here, Peeta? I thought Director Heavensbee already sent you on your way?”

 

_Peeta._ The corner of Katniss’s lips quirked. And she thought her name was unique.

“I was just, ah, getting inspiration from the surroundings,” Peeta replied smoothly. “I’ll go on my way now. Thank you, Ms. Trinket.”

 

“Oh, just call me Effie,” the woman replied coyly, her well-manicured nails glittering as she waved at Peeta in farewell. “Well, Ms. Katniss,” she said briskly, turning to her and giving her shoulder a little push. “Come now, let’s not waste any more time.”

 

_Well… Five-four-three-two-one go, Katniss._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues with Katniss making herself comfortable in her role, and finds herself in the company of a new friend.

Chapter 2

 

“OH MY GOD YOU DID WHAT?”

 

Katniss laughed, her cheeks flaming. The music in the pub was loud, but probably not loud enough to cover her friend’s shriek. “Calm down Madge, we can’t go announcing it yet.”

 

The tall, willowy blonde slipped out from her position behind the counter to stand beside Katniss and give her a tight squeeze around her shoulders, an excited squeal directly targeted towards Katniss’s ear. Three years of being roommates and sometimes Madge’s enthusiasm still surprised her.

 

“Holy shit, you totally did it! I’m so proud of you Katniss!” Madge kissed her cheek, finally letting go to slip behind the counter once more. “This calls for a toast!”

 

“What calls for a toast? And why are you behind the counter again Madge? It’s employees only!” a tall, olive-skinned man asked, a scowl covering his otherwise handsome face.

 

Madge pouted as she poured two glasses of vodka, handing one to Katniss. “You weren’t complaining when your tip jar got filled last time,” she rolled her eyes. “And babe, we’re celebrating. Katniss just got her dream role at the University Theater.” She reached up, kissing Gale on the cheek before sliding out to Katniss’s side of the counter once more.

 

The scowl on Gale’s face instantly melted, either from the kiss of from Madge’s news, or both.

 

“You’re doing Phantom then?” he grinned. “Congratulations Katniss! Your drinks are on me tonight.”

 

“Oh no, Gale,” Katniss frowned, pushing her half-empty glass towards Gale. “You don’t have to. Please.”

 

“No,” Madge exclaimed, wrapping her hands around Katniss’s and the glass. “You deserve this. You’re going to be a star, for chrissakes! And Gale never offers free drinks. You basically have two once-in-a-lifetime things going on for you right now.”

 

“Hey,” Gale scowled again, but it was half-hearted. “Just please, no puking on my truck. The stink from last time is still there.”

 

Katniss grinned, emptying her glass and finally letting herself loosen up. She really did feel like celebrating, and it’s not like she was going to say no to her lone two friends anyway.

\---

 

 

Katniss loved music, and her father once told her that music loves her back. It was a silly notion, but it had encouraged her as a young child, the belief that she had some kind of talent within her making her sing loudest during choir recitals. Both her parents loved the theater, although it was only her father that had dabbled in it, her mother claiming that her role was that of a devoted fan. Her younger sister Primrose was just as enthusiastic about musicals, but more for the story and the romance instead of the songs. The Phantom of the Opera was a definite favorite in their household. Prim would cry buckets every time Katniss sang All I Ask of You with their father, and when she called to tell her news as soon as she got home from the celebratory drink with Madge, their conversation was a tearful one.

 

“Dad would be so proud, Katniss,” Prim said softly, sniffing. “Have you told Mom yet? We need to reserve tickets as soon as possible! And our train tickets too!”

 

Katniss laughed at her sister’s excitement, although it was pretty infectious. “Hold your horses little duck. We haven’t even practiced yet. But the first run is supposedly in five months.”

 

“Oh my god, Katniss!” Prim shrieked. “Oh my god, have you met your Raoul yet? Or even your Phantom? Oh my god you’ll be singing duets and kissing them onstage!”

 

“Right,” Katniss replied, suddenly breathless. She forgot about that. Well, not really. “Uhm, I think I met one of them at the auditions –“

 

“Is he hot? Scratch that, does he sound any good? Do you have his name? Has he been in other plays before?”

 

“Jesus Prim, sometimes I forget you’re not the little kid that chased our goat in the meadow anymore,” Katniss sighed, smiling. She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks flame as she curled up on her bed. “He’s pretty cute. But I don’t know which role he’s playing, we didn’t talk much. His voice is…”

 

_Deep. Sexy. Turned my knees into jelly._

“…okay.” Katniss grimaced. They have spoken just a handful of words. Although his voice was something she never quite got out of her mind.

 

“Huh.” Prim was quiet for a moment. “What’s his name?”

 

“It’s… Peeta,” Katniss replied, her voice softening at the end. She turned to lie on her back, eyes looking up at her ceiling. Something stirred in her stomach at the mention of his name, and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was butterflies.

 

The sound of rustling sheets came from Prim’s end, followed by a stifled yawn. “His name sounds familiar somewhat. Maybe I’ve seen him in something before?”

 

“You sound like you’re about to fall asleep. Go on Prim, we can talk more details tomorrow. I just really wanted to tell you.” Katniss smiled, sighing. “Good night little duck. I love you too.”

 

She placed her phone carefully on her night stand, lying back on her single bed and stretching her limbs with a moan. It’s been a long day – long and absolutely amazing, she added, grinning. She is going to be Christine Daae, and she is going to sing the songs that made her childhood – no, her life so far – so colorful. And she was going to do it with this enigmatic Peeta, whether as her Phantom or Raoul. She still had to thank him for giving her a last jolt of luck that afternoon. What a lucky charm.

 

\-----

 

Katniss couldn’t help the small smile forming on her face as she walked down the hall of the building, the deserted corridor leading to the exit lit by the fluorescent lamps. It was a Friday, and while the rest of the student body was probably at the pub welcoming the weekend, she was on her way to Room 2E of the Music Building. Tucked in the corner of the second floor, it has been her favorite place for weeks now – the place where she practiced her singing, as soon as she got hold of the news about auditions.

 

She discovered it after a late lecture one evening. It was the perfect place – the room was old, but the acoustics was good. The walls and ceiling were covered in soundproof foam, not that it would have mattered, because on most days the building was deserted by 8 PM, when Katniss would usually drop in. Even the janitor, old man Cray, would have already gone by that time. The only detail she was unhappy about was the second window on the wall overlooking a small expanse of trees, which was stuck open. But she was on the second floor, the students barely ventured into the woods, and the fresh scent of leaves calmed her, so she stayed.

 

She sat on the platform in front, stretching her legs and crossing her ankles as she breathed in deeply. The sound of crickets floated in from the outside, and she listened for a few seconds before she opened her lips, her voice flowing out smoothly. She started to hum a random tune, feeling almost nostalgic. This is where she told herself she was going to give that audition everything she got. This was her special place, where she could sing all she wanted, whatever she wanted, without that fear of being judged.

 

The room was bathed in darkness, with the door closed, only the moonlight coming in through the windows was the source of illumination. The darkness never bothered Katniss, even as a child. Her lights were always off at bedtime, and they never had the luxury of having those fancy night lights that her classmates bragged about. Her father had told her time and again that the darkness was something that she shouldn’t fear – her room, and the world, would be the same even in the dark. Things would be where you last left them, Primrose would still be sleeping on the pull-out bed just to her right, and her parents would be in the room just across hers. The monsters that people attributed to the dark were just the product of their imagination spinning out of control.

_“And it’s not a bad thing, Kitty,” Gustave Everdeen told her, his dark eyes round with exaggerated concern. “What’s bad is when you let those monsters keep you balled-up under your pillow, when you can share the darkness and play with them.”_

Of course, things changed when her Papa died, three years after that conversation. Katniss could still feel his fingers poking along her ribs and tickling her until she cried from laughing, teasing her about monsters and fighting them with her imaginary bow and arrow.

 

She paused, her voice cracking as her hands gripped the edge of the platform. Her father would be happy, if he knew she was singing again. She remembered her conversation with her sister the night before. Prim was right – he would have been so proud of his eldest, little Kitty about to perform in front of hundreds of people, instead of keeping her voice to their kitchen.

 

“Softly, gently, night unfurls its splendor…”

 

Her voice was soft as a whisper, her eyes closing as she realized the song that made its way out of her. For a moment she felt the same ball of emotion build up in her throat. She knew that sensation, the constriction that always made her stop before she even made it through the first stanza. But with the darkness around her, with only the empty chairs and tables as company, she braced her arms and sat up straight, hearing her song become stronger.

 

“Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light,” she bit her lip, feeling a small smile form on her face. “And listen to the music of the night.”

 

Her father sang this song like it was his own. And maybe in a way, it was. As a man who supplanted his meager earnings as a miner by hunting in the woods that connected to their backyard, the darkness was friend. Katniss had never thought much of how her father risked his life both in his day job and his night hunting back then. She made it a habit to welcome him home right before sunrise with his catch, the beaming smile on his soiled (and sometimes bloodied) face dimming only slightly when she pleaded for him to take her next time. Only when she turned a little bit older did she realize that he was risking so much just to make sure that they had enough food on their table. And when he died after an unfortunate accident in the mines, she resented herself for not seeing it earlier. It was hard, just hearing the song in her head.

 

But now, with this show and the song right along the horizon, she realized she was able to appreciate it once more. She pulled herself up, standing in front of the dark room with a final sniff as she sang about surrendering to the dark, her voice lifting into a soft falsetto. “…let your spirit start to soar… And you’ll live as you’ve never lived –“

 

A small clatter made her pause, her breath catching. Katniss looked around, wary of any movement in the room, her eyes blinking widely. It was still as dark as ever, but she was sure of what she heard. Swallowing nervously she took a deep breath and took her bag by a strap, silently edging herself closer to the door where she thought she heard the clatter come from. It’s not like she would be attacked, she reasoned in her head. It could just be the janitor. Or it could be rats. She shivered, grimacing.

 

Katniss wasn’t really one for suspense. With a steady hand on the handle she pulled the door open, keeping her eyes peeled even as the glare from the fluorescent bulbs made them water.

 

“Holy sh-“

 

“You?” she stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. She felt her shoulders sag, the strap of her bag hanging precariously on her right. “What are you doing here?”

 

She recognized him as soon as she saw his blonde hair, remembers instantly the small interaction they had in that hallway and the nudge of encouragement he gave her right when she needed it. Peeta stood an arm’s length away from her, and from that short distance she could see a sort of panic in his wide, blue eyes. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, and for some reason she picked up the detail of how his hair looked so wavy it seemed almost absurd as it fell across his forehead. He looked even more startled that she was.

 

Remembering how she came to this situation, Katniss straightened up, her face hardening into a scowl. Had he been listening to her this whole time? “I said,” she cleared her throat, making sure her voice had no cracks in it. “What are you doing here?”

 

He licked his lips, his hand flying up to rake the waves over. “I was… I was finishing some work and I heard something.” He blinked, and the fear in his eyes changed into something that was more reminiscent of wonder. “I heard someone singing.”

 

Katniss could feel the warmth spreading from her neck to her face. He did hear her sing. _Fuck. There goes the secret music room then._ She felt a surge of disappointment with the realization that she was probably never going to be able to practice there again. She secured her bag higher on her shoulder and shook her head, taking a side step to avoid Peeta as she walked away.

 

“Katniss!”

 

She faltered on her step, immediately hating herself for it. She should just leave. He found her secret spot while she was doing her secret activity, and petty as it sounded, she felt violated somehow. Singing that song with her father’s memory was extremely personal to her, almost sacred. As much as she hated to admit, she had been vulnerable then.

 

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said sincerely. “I didn’t know it was you, I swear. I was just… I heard you singing, and it kind of made me want to hear more…” He sighed, cursing softly under his breath. “I’m sorry if I interrupted you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

There was silence then. Katniss bit her lip, finally giving in to the urge to glance at him after what felt like minutes. He was bent to the ground, picking up a few pencils which she realized was the source of the sound she heard earlier. “It’s alright. You’re going to hear me soon anyway,” she said nervously, finding herself frozen in place as he stood up and gave her a tentative smile. “I mean,” she took a deep breath as she met his eyes, “we are going to be working together.”

 

“For what it’s worth, you sang like nothing I’ve ever heard before,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

Katniss nodded, wrapping her arms in front of herself as she turned and walked away. She was already at the corner, one turn away from disappearing from his sight, when she let the remark slide out of her mouth. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

 

Peeta laughed, and she looked over to see him still standing in his spot. “Definitely a good thing. Always a good thing.”

 

“Right,” Katniss shrugged, looking away as she let a wide grin form on her face. It was only hours later, while she was lying awake in her bed, when she realized that he remembered her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should have mentioned this at the beginning, but I know nothing about theater and stage production. LOL. These are all based on imagination and some googling, so if things are inconsistent with how a company works or how they schedule things I really am sorry. Also I'm aiming to have weekly updates, in case anyone is interested in that detail. Thanks again! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge has always thought Katniss was a bit of a hopeless romantic, somewhere deep, deep, deeeeeep inside. She was right, but neither of them realized that sometimes the 'hopeless' part was a little more prominent.

The official cast was announced a week after the auditions wrapped up, the names of actors alongside their roles posted on the bulletin board reserved for the theater council. The bit of commotion in front of the announcement was the first thing that had clued Katniss into how this production wasn’t exactly going to be a small one. She was used to acting in her high school theater club, where the props were mostly made of Styrofoam and the costumes from Snow White were also the ones used in their staging of Hamlet. She was never the lead in any of those though, content to be in the sidelines, participating for the extra credit more than the performance itself.

 

So when she saw the number of people looking at the cast list, she felt her anxiety bubbling up and edging the excitement out of the picture. It didn’t help that she saw Clove and her friends in the crowd, glaring at her like their beef was more personal than purely coincidental. When Madge told her it would be great to send Prim a picture of the official list with her name on it, she pleaded for her friend to take the picture without her. Not that she was scared of Clove or anything – she had no doubt she could take them out with her sharpshooting aim any day. It’s the attention that she was more nervous of.

 

When Madge sent her the photo of the cast list, she forwarded it to Prim without reading through the rest of the names. She was going to meet them soon anyway, and she was already late to her first class. She even forgot to check what the role of her lucky charm was. 

 

\---

 

There were perks to being cast as Panem State’s Christine Daae, Katniss soon realized. As the leading star of the season, she had been allowed to drop her Introduction to Vocal Performance and Harmony class in exchange for the one-on-one training with the music teacher, Seneca Crane, the first of which was scheduled in two days. She’d rather have skipped her Musical History or Prose and Poetry 101 though.

 

Having a free period in the morning thus allowed Katniss to laze in school grounds, her legs stretched out on the grass, a well-worn copy of Shakespeare on her lap. It’s been a while since she had been able to appreciate the campus’s sunken garden – a huge, circular space of trimmed grass fenced in by huge trees. It was almost like the meadow she enjoyed back home, with the earthy smell and sounds of sparrows in the air. She was slowly making her way through the second act of Corolianus when she saw a shadow fall on the space to her right.

 

“Hey, it’s you again.”

 

She looked up, and had to blink a few times before her eyes could adjust to the sunlight. It was Peeta, of course, his blonde hair illuminated by the sun behind him. Even through the shadows his blue eyes were bright, and were currently focused on her.

 

“Hey,” Katniss croaked, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Peeta.”

 

He grinned, gesturing to the space beside her, settling with a foot of space between them after she grunted in reply. “I never got to see you after the results were posted. Congratulations.”

 

There was something in the way that he said her name that made the butterflies in her stomach go full blast. The slight flush on his cheeks and the way he stole glances at her may also be partly to blame. “I guess I should congratulate you too, right?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled, scratching his chin. “My role in the production won’t be as epic as yours, but I’m more than happy to be part of it.” He leaned back, his elbows bent on his sides. His comment made Katniss’s brow furrow as she watched him settle in, opening his messenger bag to take out a book and open it to a marked page. Taking his cue, she turned her attention back on her own book, fighting the urge to look at her companion and the awkwardness of sitting with a stranger. But a few minutes had passed, and Katniss realized that the silence actually companionable, if not entirely comforting.

 

“What are you reading?” she asked, unable to stop herself. While her text was just plain black on plain, white paper, Peeta’s actually had pictures. Full-colored pictures with paragraphs as captions.

 

He lifted the book, showing her the cover. “Theater design.”

 

_Stock Scenery Construction._ She nodded, her curiosity picking up. “You took that elective?” It was one of the things that she hadn’t considered as an option. She wasn’t exactly the creative type. Her talent in the arts were strictly confined to her voice.

 

“It’s actually my minor,” he said, his eyebrows raised up. “You’re not a snobby one, are you? I know some of your lot tend to look down on the crew, but you can’t make a good play without an equally good setting.”

 

She flushed, scowling. “I know that,” she snapped, even when his voice was light and teasing. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, hands fisting over her book. “I was just surprised. I assumed you were majoring in theater or music like me. My father, actually… he was a stage hand at one point.”

 

“That’s cool,” he said softly, smiling. Then, turning towards her with curiosity plain on his face: “So… are you in Theater or Music?”

 

“Music.”

 

Katniss then found herself talking, about how she basically didn’t have a choice about her degree. It was a scholarship that she obtained in high school, after her History teacher Mr. Abernathy heard her sing in one of the crappy school productions. Her family wouldn’t have been able to afford any further education otherwise, and Katniss had been expecting a lifetime of working small jobs to support her little sister’s own dream of becoming a doctor. Classical voice training was hard, and she doesn’t really know what she’s supposed to do with it once she graduates, but her scholarship provided for her living expenses and allowed her to sing, which she loved doing. It was a win-win situation, and this role was basically just the cherry on top of her enormous sundae of opportunity.

 

She’s never talked so much in her life. Blushing, let out a nervous laugh and looked at him with a grimace, expecting him to look bored, or at least, politely interested. But instead he found him with an awestruck look on his face, startling when their gazes caught. He cleared his throat, looking away and fiddling with the pages of his book.

 

“Sorry, my life story is not what you were asking,” she grimaced, shifting herself away from him. A small breeze ran through them, and she noticed too late that she had lost the page she was previously reading. _Oh crap._

“It wasn’t. But,” he chuckled, lifting himself up to stand. “I never really thought it would be so easy to ask.” He smiled at her, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. The action made Katniss want to do it, herself. “I am craving for a sundae now, though.”

 

Katniss scowled. “Shut up.”

 

“I’m going to have to run to class,” he said, holding the book to his hip and gesturing to one of the buildings. “But I’ll see you around, eh Katniss?”

 

Her half-hearted scowl fall in an instant. “Guess I don’t have a choice,” she smirked, crossing her arms in front of her.

 

“You burn me,” he laughed and started to walk away. Katniss watched him, admiring the view from her vantage point and the seemingly perfect fit of his dark wash jeans on his thighs. She blushed, biting her lip. Madge would have a field day if she saw Katniss now.

 

Peeta turned back, already at the edge of the garden, and Katniss felt herself turn red at being caught staring for the nth time. He had a boyish grin on his face, and cupping a hand around his mouth. “Corolianus dies at the end!” he yelled, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

 

“It’s a fucking tragedy!” Katniss yelled back, making him laugh as well as a few other students passing by. She shook her head, ignoring how his deep laugh echo in her chest, watching him as he waved and walked away.

 

Katniss bit her lip, a futile attempt to stop herself from grinning. She just realized there might be another cherry on top for her.

\---

 

“I wish he could be Raoul,” Madge said wistfully, taking a bite out of her third slice of pizza. “I do love the duet, it’s romantic.”

 

Katniss tried to keep her meeting with Peeta to herself. She wasn’t the kind of girl who told every detail of her life to other people, even if it was her best friend. But Peeta had sat with her for three times now, in the same spot on the garden that she found herself gravitating to even when the benches were available. They usually just sat together, reading in silence with small breaks of conversation here and there.

 

It was a comfortable routine, she had to admit. Peeta had even started to bring food and sharing it with her, claiming that the baked goods were run-offs from the bakery that his father owned downtown. Katniss particular enjoyed the cheese buns and found herself craving for them right then.

 

The movie version of the Phantom of the Opera played as the two finished off their dinner. Madge had downloaded all available versions of the musical, from the Hollywood versions to the stage performances, claiming that it might help Katniss gain perspective on how to create her own character. “A study of Christines,” Madge joked. Katniss knew it was just a lame excuse to hear Gerard Butler sing.

 

“It’s not that terrible,” Madge pouted. “This movie made me consider theater, remember?”

 

Madge is a performer, like Katniss. But instead of song, her art is through dance. Despite her long limbs and willowy built, Katniss had never seen anyone dance as gracefully as her friend. Trained in ballet as soon as she was able to walk, Madge Undersee was the niece of Maysilee Donner, renowned ballerina and the most popular dancer in Panem. It was clear that Madge had inherited the talent, and her parents had made sure to sharpen it to a fine point. It had almost driven a wedge between Madge and her parents when she insisted on going to Panem State, when her parents had planned for her to train in a prestigious school abroad. But Madge’s will prevailed, and she went to university with her good friend, sharing a campus dorm room with her instead of taking the loft that her father bought.

 

That last decision was most probably due to the fact that the security details in the loft would prevent her boyfriend, Gale Hawthorne, from visiting every now and then.

 

“Wait,” Madge said, pausing the movie after the duet was sung. “You’ve never asked Peeta what his role is?”

 

Katniss frowned, wiping the oil from her hands with the rough napkins from the pizza box. “I kind of assumed he’s either of the main actors. I mean, he was chummy with Ms. Trinket. She gave him a copy of the script! And his voice, it’s…”

 

The other girl’s eyebrow rose, an amused smirk appearing on her lips. “You’re totally seduced by this guy.”

 

She blushed, her frown darkening to a scowl. “I am not. We’ll be working together. We’re supposed to get along.”

 

Madge shrugged, still smirking, attention back on the movie. Christine had been abducted by the Phantom, their trip to this lair done to the dark music. This was Katniss’s favorite part, the most iconic sequence of the whole story. The strange duet was enthralling, the way the Phantom seemed to have hypnotized Christine as he led her to the darkness. The song would require a show of vocal range that could make or break the show. As the Phantom commanded Christine to sing, Katniss felt shivers run down her spine, the hairs on her arms standing on end. It seemed so sensual, how the Phantom touched Christine, both with his hands and his voice.

 

The Music of the Night was also Katniss’s favorite song for her father to sing, memories of him dancing to it with her mother in their small kitchen forever etched in her mind.

 

But right now, all that Katniss could imagine was herself standing on a dark stage, dressed in white and surrounded by candles, with a masked Phantom standing close behind her, singing to her as his hands floated in a light caress on her neck. She could hear his voice, the way his lips wrapped around her name singing the words to the song instead.

 

She took a ragged breath, taking a gulp of her now warm beer. Beside her, Madge seemed as distracted by the movie as she was a while ago. At least she wouldn’t notice how flushed Katniss had become.

 

_Please let Peeta be the Phantom,_ Katniss prayed. She simply couldn’t imagine doing the scene with anyone else.

\---

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the musical are slowly but surely taking shape. And someone's prep work is becoming more personal than she expected.

_Angel of Music, light and guardian, grant to me your glory_

_Angel of Music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel_

There was something magical when Katniss sang. She never told anyone that, of course. It would sound too much like praising herself, or her voice. But it wasn’t so much as the sound that came out of her when she was singing that she felt was magical. It was the energy that she felt coursing through her veins, a certain sort of power that she could feel building up inside her chest and flowing to the very tips of her soul. Even as a child, humming a tune made her feel a certain kind of happiness, enveloping her in a glow that made her forget everything around her, transporting her to her own little world.

 

She didn’t realize that her voice had an effect not just on herself, but to everyone who heard it as well.

 

“Brava. Brava, my dear.”

 

Katniss opened her eyes slowly, the brightness of the overhead fluorescent disorienting her. She took a deep breath, realizing just then how rapid her heart was beating, her palm pressed to the space right under her ribs. Her lips were dry and her throat was raw, almost as if she had been running a marathon instead of standing on an elevated platform inside an enclosed room, singing for an audience of three who were currently looking at her with varying levels of awe on their faces. It was her first one-on-one training session, and although she was surprised to see that it was going there were going to be three people in front of her she managed to settle her nerves enough to sing the song on the sheet she was handed.

 

Effie Trinket, the casting director, was dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a white handkerchief. “Darling, you are, undoubtedly, the best discovery I have ever found in my entire stay at this university’s theater company.” She straightened up, clearing her throat. “That is, of course, barring the production of Les Miserables that we had five years ago. The lovely tenor we had as Enjolras was able to understudy for –“

 

Beside her, a balding man cleared his throat sharply, and stood up before Ms. Trinket could continue talking. “Ms. Everdeen, I can’t deny that you are quite talented, and that this role will be perfect for you. But,” he sighed, grasping the music sheet that were lying on the table in front of him. “You’re rather… raw. Your breathing is all wrong, and there were some parts were you had obvious difficulty. This is your first time, correct?”

 

Katniss bit her lip, feeling her shoulders sag. “Yeah… I mean, yes, Mr. Crane.”

 

“Well,” the man shrugged, sighing. “It only means we’re going to have to work on you a little bit more.” He gave her a little nod.

 

Effie beamed at Katniss. “Don’t worry dear, we are working out a schedule for you. As I’ve told you before, this is going to be a major production! We are sparing nothing to make sure that everything is perfect.”

 

Katniss had kept her gaze glued to the toes of her boots as Effie spoke, the aftershock of her performance and the mild scrutiny making her feel weak. She could hear the orchestra manager, Mr. Crane, still discussing with Effie, their chatter not making any sense to her ears. She was more attentive to the feeling of someone staring at her. The silent member of her audience remained seated, his eyes boring straight to her. He had a thick head of white hair, and his fingers met just under his chin.

 

She knew him. His picture was right there in the hallway, alongside the memorabilia of the past deans and celebrated faculty members. For some reason, she just couldn’t remember his name, but the weight of his stare definitely made her uncomfortable. She sharply looked away, her eyes landing on the see-through glass on the door where she caught a glimpse of something blonde.

 

She frowned. This wasn’t officially a closed-door rehearsal, but the thought of someone else listening doubled up her nerves. She had taken one step towards the door, curious to see the secret watcher and perhaps tell the person off, when Effie’s voice calling her name brought her back into the conversation. Unless…

 

“Katniss?”

 

Katniss looked at her, shaking her head slightly. “Sorry, what was that?”

 

“Miss Everdeen,” Mr. Crane looked at her with a less than pleased expression on his face. Katniss noticed the rather peculiar shape of his beard as he traced it with his fingers. “I said that I will teach you some exercises for your breathing. And we are wasting no more of our time. To the center again, now.”

 

It was dark by the time they had finished, and Katniss’s throat felt raw. She knew singing in the theater was hard work, but it had only been a few weeks since her audition and already she was starting to doubt if she’d have as much as a squeak left in her by the time the show opens. But she wasn’t complaining. She would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t love every minute of it.

 

\---

Finally, an announcement at the bulletin board was posted, calling all of the company to come to the theater on a Friday afternoon.

 

Katniss sat on one of the theater chairs along the aisle, the place dark with only a spotlight trained on the stage as source of illumination. Dust motes were floating in the beam of light, and she was pretty sure more dust was sticking to her jeans and knitted shirt as she sat there. The theater smelled musty, but of age rather than disuse. It has been the main gathering place of Panem State University for the past ten years after all. The last play performed on that stage was the school’s staging of Shakespeare Monologues a year ago, and it was pretty decent. She was sure the stage was going to look amazing once the stage design people wielded their magic.

 

There were just a couple of other people present at the moment – Katniss was early for once (although she does owe Madge another extra shift at the coffee shop). The lady who managed the auditions, Ms, Effie Trinket, was there before her and everybody else. She was wearing a shimmery, blue-green dress under a white, well-tailored trapeze coat opened on the front, her long legs in black stockings. Katniss thought she looked pretty but rather ostentatious. But maybe she had worked in the theater long enough that the theater had blended itself in her lifestyle.

 

There were two guys, both hefty and olive-skinned, sitting on the edge of the stage. They kept to themselves, the bigger guy occasionally gesturing towards the wooden platform; Katniss assumed they were part of the stage crew. She was scanning through her script (which was well-worn at this point) when the rest of the cast filtered through the doors, and soon a sizeable crowd was gathered close to the stage.

 

Katniss closed her folder, looking around. From the limited light she could make out a few faces, none of them familiar. There was an unsettled feeling in her stomach, like something was missing.

 

_Something, or someone._

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie Trinket greeted them, her arms stretched out regally. “My dear children, welcome. I am Effie Trinket, your casting director, as you all probably know by now.” She giggled, pausing for effect, and Katniss couldn’t help but grimace. “From today onwards, this theater is going to be our home. The scripts you are holding will be our bible. And the people around you,” she gestured to them gracefully once more, “…will be family. This is the 2014 Panem State University production of the Phantom of the Opera.”

 

A polite applause sounded, echoing in the large, mostly empty room.

 

“Our director, Mr. Plutarch Heavensbee, is running a little late,” her previously blinding smile dimming a few degrees, her voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Please note that tardiness is not going to be tolerated in this stage. We are all adults, and while this is not Broadway, we are all going to be professionals and treat it with the amount of respect that a stage deserves.” She took a deep breath, smiling wide once more. “Now, let us all group according to our department. The cast will meet here in front of the stage. Costumes and wardrobe, please gather on the right by the balcony… Design and Productions, please proceed to the stage, careful with the wood, it’s mahogany…”

 

Katniss stood up, brushing her pant legs with her folder before hoisting her back pack on her shoulders and walking towards Effie. She surveyed her fellow actors, smiling and nodding politely when she made eye contact. It was strangely not unpleasant, being with other people, even if they were basically strangers.

 

_But these strangers are going to be your family,_ she thought to herself, echoing Effie. She bit her lip, stopping herself from laughing at her own joke. Not exactly the best first impression, looking like a crazy person.

 

“You got Christine?”

 

Katniss turned around, meeting a pair of green eyes. “Hey! You got in!” She smiled, almost sighing in relief at seeing someone who was at the very least, familiar.

 

“I’m Annie,” the girl smiled. She raised her script and shook it a little. “I am going to be your understudy.”

 

Katniss nodded, introducing herself as well. Annie Cresta was shy but friendly, her willowy figure and flawless fair skin luminous in the dimness. Her auburn hair reached down to her lower back, stylishly messed up in a way that Katniss had never been able to achieve on herself even after hours of Youtube tutorials with Prim. Annie simply looked like a mermaid, the kind that can lure sailors out to their doom. Beside her, Katniss started to question why she was chosen as the lead, and not Annie. She got her answer soon enough, though.

 

“I heard that you blew them away when you sang,” Annie said, her eyes twinkling with awe. “Finnick said that Heavensbee and Trinket nearly cried with joy as soon as they heard you.” She grinned, bumping her gently with her shoulder.

 

She was about to ask who Finnick was, and why he was apparently privy to the feedback of the show’s staff, but Annie’s attention was back to the stage. In front of them, Effie Trinket had started to speak again, talking to the cast more directly this time. Since their director still had to show up, she had taken the reigns and started to talk them through the details and the apparently huge budget the university council, as well as the alumni, have given them for this production alone. It wasn’t unheard of – the Shakespeare fest last year was a big extravaganza and a record breaking success in itself, even making it to major newspapers. The pressure this year, for them, was definitely on.

 

Katniss smiled and nodded, but her attention was unintentionally halved.  She was annoyed that her co-actors, her leading men, were both no-shows.  And she couldn’t help but wonder where Peeta was as well. Suddenly her annoyance was mixed with nervousness as she thought of him and _finally_ doing actual rehearsals together.

 

“Katniss. Hey. Katniss.”

 

Katniss nearly yelped in surprise, as Annie laughed beside her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I kind spaced out back there,” she blushed, her face falling into worry. “What did I miss?”

 

“A Cliff’s Notes summary of the whole thing,” the girl beside her sighed, combing her fingers through her blonde hair. “I’m Delilah, by the way. I’m your singing rival,” she winked, smiling coyly. “Oh, just call me Delly.”

 

“You’re Carlotta,” Katniss grinned, shaking her hand. “That means you can hit the high notes I can only dream of even grazing.”

 

“Nonsense,” Delly said, looking at Katniss incredulously. “News is that you’re kind of a nice surprise. And this is what, your first time, singing on stage?” She regarded her gently, her full lips easing into a friendly smile. “You must be really amazing, for Plutarch to give you his full approval.”

 

Katniss mouth opened and closed soundlessly, her thank you lost as she tried to catch up. How come everyone but her seemed to have heard something about the audition before the cast was even assembled? She knew she could sing, but the way these people – her new friends – talked about it, you’d think she was more than what she really was.

 

“Speaking of, Plutarch isn’t showing up,” Annie whispered to her, and Katniss was finally aware of Effie talking on her phone, standing by the emergency exit to her right. Even at a few meters away they could hear her sharp tone, her usually beaming face contorted with anger. “I guess this first meeting was a bust.”

 

“No kidding,” Delly replied, pulling her hair into a high ponytail and fixing her bag, ready to run as soon as Effie makes it official. “This wasn’t official anyway. Effie only wanted us to socialize and bond with each other or something. Peeta’s not even here.”

 

Katniss turned towards Delly so comically fast she was sure it had given her whiplash. How was she supposed to ask about Peeta without looking like a creep? It’s not like she’s friends with the guy, they’re only ever talked twice… in the same day. But if he was going to be her partner, they’re going to have to know each other at some level, right?

 

“Attention, my dears,” Effie called, climbing a few steps to be visible to everyone. “Unfortunately, our director and some of our cast cannot make it today. Director Plutarch sends his apologies.” She looks around, her eyes searching for someone and stopping at Katniss. “So does our Raoul and the Phantom. I’m afraid some circumstances had to be taken care of.”

 

A murmur ran through the group, and Katniss watched as Annie frowned at her phone. Delly just shrugged, her smile constantly present.

 

“So Peeta’s part of that circumstance?” Katniss asked, trying hard at nonchalance. Cringing, she realized that her acting skills definitely needed some warming up.

 

“Oh, you know Peeta?” Delly asked, lighting up even more. “I’ve been calling him all morning about this meeting, but his voicemail is all I’m getting.” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her voice had taken a different quality when she spoke next. “Peeta’s going to be so brilliant. This is kind of his dream, you know? I mean, one of his many, but he’s always loved the Phantom of the Opera.”

 

Katniss smiled, feeling a warmth unfurl in her chest. “I know. I mean, it’s my dream too.” The comfort she instantly felt from Delly’s words surpassed her curiosity about how Delly apparently knew Peeta’s dreams, _among the many._ It would be amazing, working on this project with someone who understood how important it was for her. Katniss wondered what Peeta’s story would be, his reason for loving this story as much as she apparently does. Would he be willing to tell her? And would she be willing to tell him her story, should he ask?

 ---

 

“It’s a bit weird that rehearsals are getting so delayed, isn’t it?” Katniss asked, turning a page of her current reading material backwards. While reading with Peeta in silence was nice, she has to admit that talking to him is better. She had wanted to ask him why he wasn’t at the meeting last Friday, but she held her tongue, not wanting to appear too nosy. And having him so close to her in that light gray knit sweater that made his eyes even bluer was making her a little more distracted than usual.

 

Peeta glanced at her and shrugged, brushing the surface of his sketchpad with his hand. Katniss had noticed that he had traded reading for drawing after several more of their meetings at the meadow. She’d been tempted to sneak a peek a lot of times, but she hasn’t thought of a way to subtly do it. Yet.

 

“Heavensbee had been busy with the paperwork, I heard. And a few of the props haven’t been delivered yet,” he replied, finally taking his eyes off his work to look at Katniss. “But I’m pretty sure all will be ready before the week ends.”

 

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “How are you aware of these things? We’re both part of the team, and I have no idea at all.”

 

He chuckled, scratching his jaw – a nervous tic, Katniss had previously noted. “I guess they don’t want to bother their star with the logistics.” He smiled at her, noting the blush that had crept on her face. His gaze then fell down to the papers on her lap. “Tired of Shakespeare, eh?”

 

Katniss rolled her eyes, tugging at her braid with one hand as she scanned the page she was facing. “It’s the script, actually.” She skipped a few pages, then paused, remembering something. “Where’s yours? Have you been studying lines too?”

 

“Well, I went through it the night after they gave me my copy. I mean, it hasn’t changed from the original much, right?”

 

She scoffed, surprised at his nonchalance. She has been preparing herself for her part for the past week with Madge, and yet every time she thought of actual rehearsals the anxiety would still make her freeze on the spot. She’d never pegged Peeta to be an arrogant guy. Was he _that_ good?

 

He must have noticed the way Katniss was looking at her, his face falling slightly. “I mean, I have been doing my share of prep. Of course, it feels like I’ve been preparing for this since forever, being my dream production and all.”

 

Katniss’s expression softened. “It’s my dream role, too.” She looked at him, an idea forming in her mind. If they were going to be performing this together… “Would you like to… uh… kind of practice with me? I mean, I’ve been imagining the scenes with us -”

 

“What?” Peeta asked, his head popping up so fast she was sure she heard his neck crack.

 

She shrugged, her cheeks turning pink once more. “I mean, Madge, my roommate, has been helping me with this,” she gestured to the script. “But the songs… well, I kind of need help practicing some of them with a… uhm, partner.”

 

While Katniss face had flushed to a bright red, the opposite seemed to have happened to Peeta. He swallowed, the bump on his neck bobbing. “I can’t.”

 

“Oh.” She bit her lip, the disappointment overwhelming her more than it probably should. Maybe he’s the kind of performer who prefers practicing on his own. She’s also heard of those who won’t sing unless they were already on stage. Or maybe he found her invitation too awkward. It was one thing to spend an hour reading together, and another completely different thing to sing together in an enclosed room with good acoustics…

 

“I mean, I don’t actually… I-“

 

Katniss realized her mouth was open, her face burning with embarrassment. She as good as admitted to him that she was daydreaming about scenes with him, and...  He looks aghast at the thought.

 

She swallowed, feeling her eyes moisten. He can do what he wants. He’s the lead actor after all. Or at least she assumes he is, with his self-importance and the insider info and shit. She assumed they were getting close, but obviously they weren’t on the same page. His rejection to practice together stung. Standing up, she brushed the grass off her pants, ignoring the shocked look on Peeta’s face.

 

“I need to run,” she said, clearing her throat. She avoided his eyes, brushing her braid back and hugging her script to her chest. “I’ll see you around.”

 

She kept herself from looking back, walking swiftly to the nearest building, cursing herself for even trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize for the lateness of this update. You know that feeling when you already have the story laid out but something's keeping you from publishing it anyway? It's as if my muse had some major tantrums. But I'll be better, I promise. Thank you for hanging in there, I appreciate it so much!

**Author's Note:**

> I was really apprehensive about posting this story because... well, you know. But I love Everlark, and I love The Phantom of the Opera, so what the hell right? All my fangirling can be seen at tumblr (username: the-anon-g), come say hi! Thanks again for checking this out! :D


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